


Stupid Viktor

by Nemamka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemamka/pseuds/Nemamka
Summary: Okay, okay, poledancing and paso doble and everything... but what if more time passed between these acrobatic actions, (which, to my mind, require one to be a little bit less drunk than ragdoll-stage??) and the dryhumping scene? What if Yuuri drank more only towards the end of that night? Well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not for nothing but the inspiration came from personal experience. When ~tipsy, I'm a friendly and flirty drunk, when I'm-not-okay-this-isn't-funny-anymore-I-feel-sick-close-to-passing-out-or-vomiting-drunk, I'm an emotional drunk, with high possibility of blabbering about depressing stuff, yes, in English - I've used it so much to communicate during the years of university. So here's Yuuri in that condition... I'm sorry.

“ _Be my coach, Viktooor!_ ” 

It was so _awkward_. The half-dressed mess of a skater had thrown himself on him in a sloppy, dazed embrace. He was so shocked he couldn’t move a muscle; the man who had just performed one of the hottest things he had ever witnessed off the ice was now hanging from his neck, and… He smelled funny and spoke funny, especially after three more glasses of champagne, but… Their chests pressed against each other, and he held his breath as his heart started pounding faster. 

Their _paso doble_ had been amazing… Viktor hadn’t felt so free in such a long time, those big, challenging brown eyes had tugged him along onto a stage which offered more than the ice had in years, he had to admit that to himself. But this was just a banquet, just a party, _of all places, this is not where my life turns around, is it? Of all people, a pole-dancing Japanese skater having fun couldn’t… This wasn’t… It was so… unexpected!_

He asked him to make one of the biggest decisions in his life. _Always do what is the least expected of you, that’s the only way to surprise the audience. So what if I… Oh, come on, Viktor, snap out of it._ He couldn’t use this as an escape. This was not chance for a way out. This was not a good reason to seek new inspiration. This _was_ a party, and the man stumbling away from him to get his hands on another glass was very, very drunk. He couldn’t possibly be serious about what he said. 

“Yuuri, _no_!” Christophe, still half naked but at least steady on his feet, grabbed the man’s wrist and put the glass back onto the tray. “No more for you, my friend.” 

A quiet growl came as an answer to that as the skater tried to straighten up by himself to fiercely face the Alcohol Thief, unsuccessfully. Viktor woke from his stupor in that instant; he couldn’t tell if it was to the raised voice of his friend or to the sight of their hands touching for a long moment. 

“It’s alright, Chris,” he moved in and, though a bit hesitantly, he placed an arm around Katsuki’s waist to support him up. He immediately felt an arm sliding back around his neck. “I’ll take him to the bathroom. Put your clothes back on before you catch a cold.” 

He caught a spark of excitement in Christophe’s eyes before he turned towards the exit with Yuuri. 

“Alright, take care.” 

He didn’t have time to get angry about what Chris took him for, or what dirty fantasy popped into his mind at the moment. They stumbled to the door, their sides brushing against each other with every difficult step, and Yuuri’s almost-choke-hold was surprisingly… relaxing. Viktor remembered the disappointed look on the skater’s face before he had walked out on him offering a commemorative photo. But tonight, he’d hugged him… he was leaning on him, drunk but so trustful… _Maybe there’s a chance to mend that wound at least._

Viktor sent reassuring smiles to everyone shooting concerned looks at them on their way out, signaling _it’s fine, he’ll be fine, it’s the champagne, no, we don’t need help, keep enjoying your evening._ They were already walking on the empty corridor when Yuuri raised his head a bit, slowly blinking.

“Wait… where am I…” 

“It’s alright, Yuuri, we’re just…”

The man stopped, planting his feet with hazed determination. 

“No, no, you can’t… I have to tell Viktor… I have to tell him…”

Viktor was still holding him as he mumbled on in English. _What? What does he… no. He doesn’t want to tell you anything, he’s so drunk he can’t even recognize you._

“It’s okay, come on now.” He dragged him forward, talking to him, struggling to find his best soothing tone. “We’re just getting some water, okay? You’ll b—” 

Viktor felt all the air knocked out of his lungs as Yuuri reached to his chest and pushed him to the wall with surprising strength. His eyes were out of focus, not that he managed to open them for long. 

“You don’t understand, he needs to know…” 

He was clenching the front of Viktor’s shirt with so much force that his knuckles turned white. The fabric was cutting into the back of his neck; he decided to hold Yuuri’s weight up by firmly grabbing his arms. And then Yuuri burst out crying, pressing his forehead to Viktor’s shoulder. 

_W… what do I do now?!_

“Alright, that’s it.”

He leaned down and hoisted the mess of a skater up in his arms, carrying him to the restroom with steady steps while the younger man sobbed, his glasses hitting against Viktor’s collarbone. 

He set him down on the wide counter between two sinks. Yuuri couldn’t even sit straight so he held him up with one hand, and soaked a towel in cold water with the other. 

“He doesn’t even know me,” Yuuri wept, burying his face in his hands. Viktor quickly rescued his glasses before he could just throw them off. 

“Sshh. He knows you, I’m sure,” he tried to reassure his drunk mind, very uncertain what to do with a person in this condition. _Why_ didn’t _I ask for help?_

“He didn’t remember me… He thought I was a fan…” 

Viktor’s heart sunk as he pulled Yuuri’s hands away from his face. 

“I deserve it, I’m a failure…” 

_No, this wound goes deeper than I thought. He’s hurting, bad, and I don’t know how to make it right. He placed sixth, I won gold, I’m the last person who has the right to console him._

He pushed back his black locks and wetted his forehead, his closed eyelids; he wiped off his freshest tears, then moved down to his jaw and on around the back of his neck, squeezing the towel a little bit there to let some water drip down his back. _Sober up. Just a bit clearer. Come on._

“I knew who you were,” he whispered. “I really just wanted a photo…” 

Yuuri reached out again and caught hold of his wrists, whimpering. He still didn’t know who he was with and he didn’t register what he heard, that was obvious enough.

“But I love him so much… I… much… my idol…” 

_Stupid Viktor. Help him._

“Sshh, it’s okay…” 

He couldn’t find the right words, any word. He carried on cooling him down with small touches of the towel. He ran his wet fingers through his black hair, and for a moment he just stood there before him, contemplating the fate of this miserable boy who just confessed to him unknowingly, in wasted honesty. He couldn’t fix that broken heart. Not now, not at once. But someday… maybe somehow… _How?!_ But shortly Yuuri mumbled just one more thing:

“I’ll show him. I get home I show ‘im…” 

And then suddenly he was pushing Viktor by the shoulder, out of his way to get off the counter _really fast_. A moment later he was on his knees in the nearest stall, vomiting mostly liquid; Viktor was standing close to him, stroking his back in supportive silence. He was completely lost.

_Show me what?_

That was how Phichit found them a few minutes later. He immediately pocketed the glasses left in the sink. 

“There you are! I was worried… Aw, man. I’ll take him back, our rooms are next to each other,” he said, smiling up at Viktor. “Thanks for taking care of him!” 

“Sure…” 

And there was nothing left for him to do except step back as Chulanont took over and hauled his friend up from the floor. His touches were familiar and casual over Yuuri’s limbs and torso; his voice, loaded with decisive kindness, sounded experienced in wiping away someone’s tears or anxiety with care, and Viktor couldn’t help being jealous over the latter fact. He found himself slowly emptying again. _He’s surrounded by love. He doesn’t need my help, he’s not alone. Stupid Viktor…_

“Come on, buddy, you deserve a biiig cold bath. Oh, bye Viktor! Nice seeing you!”

“Yeah, take care.” 

 

*** 

 

And then he saw the video. 

Of that very same Katsuki Yuuri. 

Skating _Stammi Vicino_. 

What? Have you been abandoned as well? _All this time?!_

He showed it… _He did it, he showed me..._

_STUPID VIKTOR!!!_

Alright, that’s it. _I’m flying to Japan._

_You’re not a failure, and I’ll be your coach._

_That’s my way of showing_ my _love._


End file.
